The Magehound

She had been stripped of magic. Not entirely-no elf could be entirely devoid of magic and live-but her wizardly power was gone beyond recall. She wouldn't have felt half as bereft if she'd lost sight or hearing or touch. The elf lay back on her pillows and fought against her rising despair.

There might yet be something she could do. In fact, the loss of her magic made her quest for the treasures of Akhlaur even more imperative.

But she had few defenses now, and fewer allies. Who would rally to the cause of a magic-dead magehound? Mbatu was dead-Mbatu, who would have stood beside her if she had been halt and lame and hideous. Mbatu, at least, she had not betrayed. The wemic had gone into battle honestly, knowing the risks and accepting them for love of her. Kiva took some comfort in that, especially in the face of what she had to do.

With great effort, she managed to reach the silver bell that stood on the bedside table. A cleric of Azuth answered her call, a tall man wearing a saffron tunic and a frigid expression.

"So you have awakened. Good. I will summon servants to bring broth and bread. You will need your strength to face the coming Inquisition."

Kiva propped herself up on one elbow. "What I did was done at the behest of the queen," she said, knowing that this would slow the Inquisition until her claim was investigated.

"Queen Beatrix bade you to subvert the jordaini? That is difficult to believe."

"The queen suspects the jordaini order," Kiva continued. "I slew Cassia at her command. This was my right, for Cassia was tainted by magic's touch.

"And she is not alone in treachery," the magehound continued. "Zephyr, the counselor to Procopio Septus, is another hidden wizard. He must be destroyed."

The cleric gazed at her. "Many of Halruaa's wizards might have been destroyed if you'd had your will in Akhlaur's Swamp."

She waved this aside impatiently. "The whole story hasn't yet been told. When you question Zephyr, he will tell you that he wanted the laraken to die. But ask him who sired the laraken! He cannot deny his part in this. He is a soft old fool who could not kill a thing. He will deny this, but I swear before Azuth that Zephyr told me he wanted the laraken to live. He wanted all of Halruaa to suffer at the laraken's hands."

"But if he's a wizard, then he would die as well."

"Zephyr is over six hundred years old," she said flatly, "and though that is not so old for an elf, he was greatly aged by the magic worked upon him by the wizard Akhlaur. Ask him about Akhlaur. Ask what was done to him, and then tell me that Zephyr had no part in this vengeance.

"He wishes to die," Kiva said, speaking true at last. "But not until a great evil is avenged. Test me now. I will repeat these words, and you will see that they are true."

The cleric hesitated, but Kiva gave a firm nod. He left the room and returned with an inquisitor. When the silver rod touched her forehead, she repeated her claim. The truth of her accusation-or at least, a damning partial truth-rang through her words like temple bells.

When the men had left to send word that Zephyr was to die at once, Kiva fell, exhausted, against her pillows. She didn't regret this betrayal, for it was a necessary thing. Zephyr suspected her. She'd sensed that for some time. When he heard she had fought to release the laraken upon Halruaa's wizards, he wouldn't rest until he ferreted out the rest of her plans.

She reached for the cup of broth the servant left and forced herself to take sips of it. When some of her strength returned, she slipped out of bed and padded over to the window.

They hadn't thought to bar it, for without her wizard's magic, she was deemed helpless. But trees grew close to the windows, and Kiva had been raised in the jungles many, many years ago.

Moving carefully, struggling against the weakness in her limbs and the lightness in her head, she eased herself into the branches. Her strength returned as she moved, as if it flowed from the living tree into her body. For she was an elf, and as long as she lived, the magic of the forest was hers to call.

And so she escaped, fleeing into the trees as her ancestors had done, as she herself had done so many years ago, when the accursed wizard Akhlaur had stripped her people of their lives and their magic.